The Shaking of America (1)
At the tail end of May, the gardens of the Mondavi Winery were filled with the scent of flowers swaying in the spring breeze and the earthy aroma of aged soil. In the center of it all, Robert Mondavi, who cherished this garden above all else, was enjoying the leisure of the afternoon, bathed in the gentle wind and warm sunlight.
Just then, two men entered the garden from afar. Mondavi, whose eyesight was failing, only recognized them once they had drawn near.
It was Joseph Higgins, the owner of Castello Vineyards, and his son, Matthew Higgins.
"It’s been a while, Joseph."
In Napa Valley, Robert Mondavi’s stature was higher than anyone else’s. Even Joseph Higgins, the owner of Castello Vineyards—which held the prestigious To-Kalon vineyard and boasted tens of millions of dollars in annual revenue—became as docile as a child in front of Robert.
"...I am relieved. I heard your health wasn't the best, but seeing you today, you look quite well."
"At this age, one day is good and the next is bad. Sit down. Matthew, was it?"
Joseph, having taken a seat, pushed his proud son forward.
"He is the future of our Castello. A very bright boy."
"I’ve heard he’s brilliant. Graduated from UC Davis with top honors, didn't you?"
Matthew smiled sheepishly.
"I graduated at the top of my class."
Robert looked at Joseph with a faint smile.
"To be so smart... You must be the happiest man in Napa."
"Hahaha! Thank you. You sit here, too."
Once Matthew had taken a seat in a white chair that matched the beautiful garden, Joseph scrutinized Robert Mondavi’s wrinkled face and spoke.
"Napa still needs you, sir. I hope you stay healthy and continue to lead this place for a long time."
Robert wore an expression of disbelief.
"What are you talking about? Those who need to move on should do so quickly. I sometimes think that perhaps progress is slow because of me."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Because the old ghosts are still here in Napa, people have developed the habit of just doing as they're told, unable to break free from fixed ideas."
Joseph was puzzled. Wine was all about tradition; he couldn't understand what was wrong with doing things the way they had always been done.
"Has something happened?"
He asked because, while he might have ignored it if Robert had said such things before, it was the first time he had heard this in such a setting, leading him to believe something recent had triggered it.
Robert caught his breath, recalled something for a moment, and then spoke.
"No. Anyway... what brings you here?"
Seeing that Robert didn't want to discuss it, Joseph felt a pang of regret but brought up his main point.
"...It’s about the news that Mr. Warren Winiarski has gone to Redwood Winery."
"I suppose there isn't a single person here who hasn't seen that magazine. That fellow put his winery on the market and turned the whole neighborhood upside down. What a troublesome friend he is..."
"Haha, that’s true. He turned the wine industry upside down. Not just here, but my friends in New York are contacting me, asking if the magazine content is true. Honestly, how would I know? What Warren is plotting. Do you happen to know?"
"So, you came here because of Warren?"
"It’s not the only reason, but it was certainly the catalyst."
"Hmm..."
Robert caught his breath again, looked around the beautiful garden once, and spoke.
"How would I know what’s in that man’s heart? But at least one thing seems certain."
"...What is that?"
"It seems he has found a passion for wine again."
"Pardon?"
"Passion at that age... Honestly, I’m envious. I’m so envious it’s driving me mad. I wonder why I didn't have that kind of passion at his age, and it breaks my heart that I have no time left."
Joseph, hearing something he hadn't expected, looked flustered. He had never imagined he would hear such an answer in this place.
"If he has found such passion, then his joining Redwood wasn't just to show off to someone, was it?"
"Show off? Hmph, I bet Warren has nothing on his mind right now but wine."
At those words, Joseph’s expression turned serious. Seeing that, Robert chuckled.
"Why? Did you think that with Warren selling Stag's Leap and it passing to Michelle and Antinori, it would be a great opportunity for Castello? But you know, even if the winemaker disappears, the wine that remains is eternal."
"I know. That is why I didn't want Stag's Leap, which was floating higher than our Castello, to crash. I wanted it to remain high and proud, showing people the greatness of Napa wine."
"Then?"
"But it is another matter entirely for that man to try and build another winery right in front of me."
If anyone else had said this, Robert would have scoffed. It was a blatant display of desire to solidify a position as another premium wine of Napa Valley, following in the footsteps of Stag's Leap. But Robert acknowledged Castello Winery.
They were qualified to say such things.
"Wouldn't it be useless to tell me this?"
"Redwood has already received two DWWA Golds. Previously, they received two Double Golds from the San Francisco Chronicle as well. And now, Warren Winiarski has joined them. ...Isn't it frightening? It’s as good as the birth of a new powerhouse."
Though he understood Joseph’s fear well, Robert’s gaze remained calm. That was why Joseph couldn't understand him. Was it because these were things that would happen after he was gone?
Joseph took a sip of his drink and spoke cautiously.
"...So, what if Castello and Mondavi were to create a new brand together?"
Robert, finally realizing the true purpose of his visit, showed an unreadable expression.
"Two wineries joining forces to create a new brand? Are you trying to pull the spotlight away from Warren and onto yourself and the Mondavi family?"
"Exactly. If the legacy of the Mondavi family and the power of Castello combine, we can sufficiently keep Warren and Redwood in check. And I intend to dedicate myself to that project."
Mondavi, still with an unreadable expression, opened his mouth in a quiet voice.
"...Joseph, I don't have that kind of energy left anymore."
"Sir..."
"Creating a new brand, putting it on the market, and pouring all my strength into maintaining it... I don't have the strength for that now. If you really want to do it, why not talk to my children instead of me?"
"Your word is still absolute at Mondavi Winery. Everyone is looking only to you."
"Well... having a competitive spirit is a good thing. It’s good for the winery and good for the industry. But I believe we at Mondavi should avoid the idea of achieving something with outside help. In that sense, I’m sorry, but why don't you look for another winery?"
Joseph’s face stiffened at the disappointing answer from the man he had trusted. Because it was a natural reaction, Robert added with a pitying look.
"I heard that when Warren went to Redwood, the folks at Michelle Wine and Antinori, who acquired Stag's Leap, were quite upset. Since things might be complicated with Antinori in Italy, why don't you discuss this with Michelle Wine? They would probably welcome it very much."
But Joseph scoffed.
"Hmph! Why would I negotiate with people who only sell daily wines for under $30? I heard it too. Michelle Wine is apparently itching to create a new wine using the blending combinations of Stag's Leap; they’ll probably come out with a sub-par version of Stag's Leap Cabernet Sauvignon. I wonder if they can even replicate half of it."
"......Then, that is a pity."
Feeling that there was nothing more to be done, Joseph rose from his seat, and Matthew immediately stood behind his father.
"Thank you for your advice today. I am always concerned for your health, sir."
"Thank you for your concern."
"Then, we will be going now."
"Travel safely."
Robert watched the back of Joseph as he shook hands and left, when another person approached from afar.
Benjamin Sinclair.
He was the General Manager in charge of the Mondavi Winery for Constellation Brands, a global liquor conglomerate.
"Joseph Higgins of Castello has been here, I see."
"Indeed. He seems to have many worries because of Warren."
"You don't seem worried at all, sir?"
"Is this not the time to be having such worries? Those are the kinds of worries you should be having."
When Warren put Stag's Leap on the market because there was no one to inherit the winery, Robert Mondavi had already gone through this process three years prior. The only difference between him and Warren was that he had children to inherit the winery, and the reason for the sale was a management issue.
Despite the financial difficulties caused by reckless expansion, donations, and management disputes among family members in his later years, he had eventually sold it to Constellation Brands for $1 billion.
Even with those difficulties, he still exerted tremendous influence in the wine industry.
"Still, is there any advice you could give me?"
"There is no such thing. Wine is different from sports. It is closer to art. It is not a victory only if someone beats someone else. Everyone has their own path."
"But there are moments when wine is a sport, too. Like the Judgment of Paris."
"That is greed. The moment you have such greed, the wine is ruined. If you want the success of Mondavi, you just need to focus on yourself."
Having said that, Mondavi stood up. Benjamin, who stood up with him, asked.
"Are you going to Continuum Estate?"
It was the winery founded by his second son, Tim Mondavi, and his daughter, Marcia Mondavi, and it was considered the de facto spiritual successor to the winery of Robert, who had now retired from the wine industry.
"I have to be diligent if I want to teach them a lot before I die."
"Don't just focus on them, please teach us a lot, too."
"Haha... everything of mine is there, so if you just work hard as you have been, there will be no problems. If you have any questions, come visit me. I can help you anytime."
Robert, having said that, walked past Benjamin. Benjamin frowned as he watched his retreating back. Even though he was still acting as the face of Mondavi Winery and appearing in various places, it was clear that the winery would shake after he died.
June at the Redwood Winery aging room.
"The acidity is too strong, isn't it? The aroma is so dense that it feels like it's killing the original intense scent of the Cabernet Sauvignon."
"I'll adjust the Merlot ratio a little bit."
"How about adjusting the oxygen ratio in that aging tank over there?"
"No. That’s how I set it. If I fail once, I’ll lose 10,000 liters entirely."
"That’s a pity... I wish we could adjust everything little by little."
Warren, who had been drinking wine little by little since he arrived at work, already had a face flushed red. No matter how much he only tasted it, getting a little tipsy was inevitable if he kept drinking.
At that moment, my father’s voice suddenly came from outside.
"Brian! We have guests! Mr. Warren! You have guests!"
Since he was looking for Warren as well as me, Warren and I looked at each other and blinked.
"Is there someone coming to visit?"
"Not that I know of?"
"Let’s go out."
When we opened the door to the aging room and went out, there were people I hadn't expected.
"Father! Why aren't you answering your phone!"
"It’s a disaster!"
The two people who had come to the winery were none other than Warren’s two sons, Andrew and Jonathan.
"I was working, so I just left it somewhere. What is it?"
Warren, who originally didn't like to pay attention to other things, answered nonchalantly and looked at his two sons, who were making a fuss.
"That... the contract we gave you, did you happen to sign and send it?"
"You mean that building in LA?"
"Yes."
"I didn't."
At those words, the two sons let out a sigh of relief.
"Phew..."
"Thank goodness."
Warren, who had been frowning at their behavior, scolded his sons.
"Hmph! I knew it. I heard the banks are in chaos right now, so what did I tell you?"
Andrew protested with an aggrieved expression.
"Everyone said it was fine until May. Even Bernanke said so, that there wouldn't be any major problems. Ha... anyway, you did well."
As he said, Federal Reserve Chairman Ben Bernanke had made a critical misjudgment the previous month, in May, by stating that he 'did not expect the problems in the subprime mortgage market to spread to the broader economy or financial system.'
Warren was holding out, not signing the approvals his two sons had submitted, perhaps because he was anxious himself since I had consistently told him not to invest in real estate.
"Tsk tsk tsk..."
Warren, looking at his two sons with a pathetic gaze, said to my father.
"I’m envious. I mean it."
Then he looked back at his two sons and said.
"For the time being, keep your hands off the real estate investment firm's business."
"Father!"
"Hmph! If you wanted to touch it, you should have shown some ability."
Having said that, he ducked back into the aging room, and I gave a pitying smile to the two sons before following him inside.