Our Dad Was A Witch

Our Dad was a witch.  No, not a witch with a black pointy hat. He was a water witch, a dowser. Yes, I planned this post to coincide with Halloween, but that was just to mess with you all a bit. He could “detect” underground pipes and aquifers with brass rods or “Y” shaped willow branches.  He was called on occasionally over the years to find the best place to sink a well for a vineyard or winery, but he was one of the lesser known dowsers in this area.

As I contemplated writing about this topic, I sent out a request for related stories to my brothers and my cousin Craig.  And they responded. Have you ever heard a story so outlandish that you hesitated to retell it, even with the disclaimer that you got it from somebody else?  Craig gave me one of those stories, but I won’t go into the specifics.  It seems that the well went dry at a friend’s house, and a group of 5 local, & well known dowsers went to help out.  They detected an aquifer a short distance from the well.  They performed a series of… of… of … actions, to “encourage” the aquifer to change its route a bit and replenish the water supply at the well.

Within a short period of time, water apparently started flowing again and the pump picked it up and all’s well that ends well (yes, pun intended).  And if you find that hard to believe, you should hear the story as he tells it.

Now I’m going to tell you my story, and I’ll swear by every word of it.  In the late 70’s I was working as a carpenter for Glen Bobst, a St. Helena contractor.  We were building a house on Sylvaner Ave in SH for Fred Beringer (yes, of the Beringer Wine Family).  We were in the final stages of construction when we needed to locate a pipe that crossed under the driveway.  It wasn’t a really long driveway, but long enough that locating it by just digging would have been a long, tough job. And since I was low man on the totem-pole, that task would have fallen on me.

Do people still use that phrase: “low man on the totem-pole”?  Hope I haven’t offended anyone. The phrase refers to gender and an ethnic cultural item.  Surely that has to offend somebody!  Anyway, back to the story.

Glen pulled up in his truck and Pep Vulcani got out holding 2 “L” shaped brass rods.  Glen told Pep there was a pipe under the driveway and we needed to find it.  Pep started walking up alongside the driveway pointing the 2 rods in front of him like six-shooters.  And then it happened.  Like magic, with no noticeable movement in Pep’s hands, the rods rotated inward and back towards Pep.  He stopped and backed up a step or two until the rods were perfectly lined up, pointing at each other.  He said “Your pipe is right here”.  Glen told me to get a shovel and start digging -  right there.  In less than a minute, I hit the pipe – Dead center.

At lunch that day, there must have been 7 or 8 of us sitting in one of the larger rooms on the unfinished plywood floor, with our backs against newly hung sheetrock.  I think there was a plumber, a heating & A/C guy and the rest of us were carpenters.  Harold Cole was a soft spoken senior carpenter – A man of few words.  Deward Bobst, Glen’s brother, was the job foreman.  He was the oldest guy on the job, but he was fit, tough, a workaholic and a true craftsman.  Deward (RIP) was also a devout Seventh Day Adventist.  And probably because of that, he was very uncomfortable with what he had witnessed earlier in the day.  Almost immediately after we sat down, the conversation turned to Pep, and how he was able to locate that pipe using the 2 brass rods.  Deward just listened for a while, then he stated very clearly: “I think it’s the work of the devil”.  The room fell silent.  After a brief, but awkward silence, Deward looked to Harold for support.  “What do you think Harold?”  There was another brief, but awkward silence as Harold searched for the right words.  Finally he said in his somewhat southern drawl “I don’t know…   Why couldn’t it be the work of the lord?”  This brought on the 3^rd awkward silence.  Some kind soul changed the topic and it was never discussed again.

Old Wine press – P & P Cellars

I love this picture (by good friend Joe Bauer) and this old wine press that sits in front of our winery. It was never used at our winery, but it still makes me wonder about the people that did use it. My brothers and I have spent lots of hours working with presses like this. The first couple of loads were kind of fun. After that, it was work – Hard work. These are referred to as basket presses, due to the shape the wooden staves form. After the grapes, or more accurately, the “must” is pressed, the pins holding the basket together are removed to split the basket in half for unloading the “cake”. The cake is what remains after the wine is pressed out. It’s a surprisingly dry combination of skins and seeds. As far as the consistency goes, the best comparison I can think of is a bag of compressed peat moss. It will stand by itself after cutting away the plastic. But hit it with a pitch fork or shovel and it breaks up fairly easily. At max capacity, this press could hold the must from about one ton of grapes. But there were times that a smaller load would need to be pressed - Maybe a small batch or the final load of a larger batch. For most presses, this required a variation from the standard practice. If it was a small amount for the final load, the cake from the previous load could be left in the press to take up the extra space. If not, it might require several additional layers of alternately stacked wood spacers to make up the difference.

But this press had a unique feature that I have not seen on any other press (That’s not to say they’re not out there, I just haven’t seen them). This press had an upper basket and a lower basket. If you look at the picture above, you can see the handles on each section. Both sections would be used together most of the time. But if need be, either section could be used alone for smaller loads. Adding further to its flexibility, is the fact that the upper basket comprises about one third of the combined total, and the lower basket about two thirds of the combined total. So, depending on load size, the press could be used at one third, two thirds or all of its capacity. Simple, but ingenious at the same time.

If you find yourself passing by on the Silverado Trail, stop in and check it out.

This part of the press is called the platen. I know, I looked it up on the internet. Amazing tool, the internet. Using different wine presses over the years, I never knew what those parts were called. After the must is transferred to the basket, the platen is placed over the must and pressed downward forcing the juice out the spaces between the staves of the basket. The platen above is hanging on the wall in our cellar. It has a bit of family history to it. My dad was managing several vineyards in the mid sixties. During that time, Bob Pepi Sr. bought the vineyards that now are part of Cardinal winery in Oakville, and my dad took over developing and managing the vineyards. They became pretty good friends and started making wine together in what had been an old dairy barn. They even made a small wine cellar in the back corner of the barn. When they poured the concrete, someone scratched “P & P Cellars” in the wet concrete. Bob Pepi Sr. acquired a wine press from the cellar of an old Italian in San Francisco. We used that press for many years, but eventually decided/needed to replace the old platen with new wood. But, we kept the old platen and eventually mounted it on the wall. Yes, it’s a bit rough and at some point in it’s past, someone nailed what appears to be galvanized sheet metal on the surface to hold it together. I’m sure that Anna, our winemaker, shudders at the thought of wine actually coming into contact with any part of it. I don’t think she even likes it in “her” cellar, but its part of our history, and Anna has learned she needs to choose her battles with the brothers.

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After viewing the original post, Joe Bauer sent the following pictures:

Even though this is a very small press, this is an excellent picture

of the basket (1/2 removed), the platen and the cake.

Lori (Sis) removing the platen and breaking up the cake.

Well why did you think they call it a cake? (Yes, it was her BD)

Foot note: I never had a sister, so I "adopted" Lori to fill that void 5 years ago

World War II - 4 Star Family

The movie Saving Private Ryan, was about a family with 4 sons serving in the military during World War II. One scene shows the Ryan home with a 4 star service banner in the window.

I’m sure the significance of the banner was lost on many viewers. The banners were common during the war, with the number of blue stars indicating how many family members were serving in the military. A gold star would indicate that the member had been killed serving their country. For obvious reasons, very few families had a 4 star banner.

There is lots of action & drama in this movie. But for me, the most dramatic part was when Mrs. Ryan was washing dishes at the kitchen sink and looked out her window to see a dark car approaching up the quiet country road. She dries her hands and goes out to the front porch. The car stops in front of her house and a clergyman gets out. At that point, she realizes that he is bringing bad news and slumps to the floor. The scene fades to one of the D-Day beaches littered with dead soldiers. The camera slowly zooms in on one of the dead soldiers lying face down in the sand and “Ryan” can be seen stenciled on his backpack.

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On October 12, 1911, John M. Pina & Maria (Mary) Pavon (and her family) boarded the British Steamship Willisden at Gilbralter and left Spain. Thirty five years to the month later, the Napa Register would report the following:

Joseph Pina, of Rutherford, is the fourth Pina boy to return safely from the war.

His three brothers, Alfonso, John Jr. and Mike, all returned earlier.

That same year, John Pina Jr. would take over running the Mt. Eden Ranch at the Oakville Crossroads & Silverado Trail. Fourteen years and four sons later, he would found Pina Vineyard Management.

Mike, John Jr., Joe, Alfonso

(Check out the car on the right)

The Evolution of the Napa Valley Harvest

As we anticipate finishing up the 2008 harvest of Napa Valley wine grapes, I’ve been reflecting on the methods of harvesting grapes in the Napa Valley over last 50 years. I’ve reached that age where I can legitimately use that tired old phrase “When I was young”.

So here goes; When I was young, we lived on the Mt. Eden Ranch. The Mt. Eden Ranch is the home of the current Plumpjack & Rudd properties bordering the Oakville Crossroad and the Silverado Trail. Not long after WWII ended, my dad returned home, married, and took over running the entire 80+ acre ranch. My dad (John) and my mom (Arline) started a family: John C: (born 1946), Larry (1947) Ranndy (1950) and Davie (1952).

Mom & Dad on their wedding day

We lived in a small house, next to the old winery. The winery still had several large redwood storage tanks and over a dozen open top fermenters, even though they had not been used since prohibition. It was also where we stored the wooden grape boxes used for harvest. These boxes were solidly constructed out of clear grain redwood and could hold up to 50# of grapes.

When harvest rolled around, these boxes would be loaded on a 40’s vintage flatbed truck, and spread in the vineyard the night before harvest. I still remember the sound the boxes made when they hit the ground. The next day, the pickers would fill the boxes and carry them to the end of the vine rows. There, they would be stacked, and the picker would use white chalk to write his number on the top box. As the truck moved through the vineyard to retrieve the filled boxes, the driver would note the number of boxes picked by each person. One man would place the boxes on the truck bed, as another stacked the boxes in neat rows. When the truck was loaded to capacity, the load would be tied down and the truck would head to a public scale, or winery, to be weighed. At the winery, the truck would pull up next to a grape “hopper” and the boxes would be dumped one-by-one into the grate covered box. A cleat conveyor would move the clusters into a crusher, where the berries were removed from the stems. The berries and juice (collectively called “must”) were then pumped into fermentation tanks; usually large redwood or concrete tanks during this time period. And so, the winemaking process began.

The 1960’s saw the introduction of stainless steel fermenting tanks, screw conveyors and grape gondolas. The gondolas were basically large steel box trailers capable of carrying between 3.5 to 5 tons of grapes. The average vineyard row was wider then, and these gondolas could be towed by a tractor, right down the vine rows. The pickers would fan out on the 3-5 rows on either side, fill their grape boxes, carry and dump them into gondola as it was towed slowly through the vineyards. When full, the gondola would be unhooked from the tractor, and a truck or pickup, would tow the gondola to the winery. During this time, the wineries had to construct tall steel crane structures over the now larger hoppers. At the winery, a large cable with a hook would be connected to one side of the gondola. The hoist would lift the gondola from one side, tipping it over to dump the grapes into the hopper. On some gondolas, the tank would separate from the frame for dumping. On others, the tank was connected to the frame, and the gondola, wheels and all, would be tipped upside down to dump the grapes. This was a huge, labor saving method, compared to transporting and unloading the wooden boxes. But, there was no margin for error in this process. If the hoist operator got careless, several tons of grapes could end up on the concrete. And then, you’d see several unhappy cellar workers in rubber boots, with pitch forks, pitching the grapes into the hopper. As well as several unhappy growers waiting in line to dump their grapes. But when everything went smoothly, one gondola could be used for several loads in a single day.

Simultaneously during this period, the larger growers and wineries would use the so called “Valley bins”. These steel bins held about 2 tons, and several were carried at one time on semi-truck & trailer rigs. The gondola and valley bin methods reduced harvest expenses and had a loyal following. They are still used at some valley wineries today. Over the years, the need arose for harvesting smaller lots of grapes going to smaller wineries that could be dumped by a forklift. Already in use for pears and other fruits were 4 ft X 4ft wooden & synthetic bins or boxes. Enter the half-ton bins for harvesting premium wine grapes. This is probably the most common method in use today at Napa Valley wineries. While they have their advantages, they also have their disadvantages. They have to be handled more than gondolas, and usually require a forklift in the field. Whereas gondolas reduced harvest labor & equipment expenses, the half-ton bins increased them.

But with time, some wineries, especially sparkling wine producers, thought the grapes needed to be handled more delicately than with the gondola & bin methods. They felt the grapes were getting crushed during harvest & transport and the juice was being exposed to air. They opted for smaller containers to be used in the process. They transitioned to what we in the industry refer to as “FYB’s”. FYB’s are most commonly yellow synthetic boxes. Less common are red & blue boxes. They are slightly smaller than the original redwood grape boxes, and stack easier. But the harvest process is very similar to when the redwood boxes were in use. Most growers dislike the additional time & money it takes to harvest this way and have adopted the acronym FYB for F___ing Yellow Boxes. They can’t really conceive of the benefits and consider those overly demanding winemakers to be the source of the problem. We continue to use the half-ton bins, but maybe someday…

Myself, I miss hearing the sound a redwood box makes when it hits the ground.

Brother Davie at 7 years of age in his 1960 “Hot Rod”
(Note the creative use of the redwood grape box)

Foot note: After writing this article, I discovered that one winery claims the FYB acronym stands for Famous Yellow Boxes. Yet another refers to them as Fun Yellow boxes. I don’t see them as famous or fun, so I’ll stick with my interpretation.

Grape Contracts Past & Present

Recently, I was forwarded an email offering grapes for sale. The interesting thing about this email was that the price per ton was dependent on the Brix (% of sugar) at harvest. I’m sure this is a common practice now, as it should be in these days of extended hang time. The following text is taken from that email:


It’s common knowledge that as grapes are left on the vines past Brix readings in the mid twenties, they will start dehydrating, and thereby lose weight. It has become an issue between growers and grape buyers, when the grape contracts do not address this factor. Many long term contracts from years past simply state that the buyer will pay X dollars per ton, and the grower will harvest when directed by the buyer. So, as some winemakers are prefering additional hang time in recent years, the grower is feeling cheated. I’m thinking that eventually, most all grape purchase contracts will address the Brix vs $/ton issue.

But, what made this email even more interesting to me, was that I remember a winemaker from 30 plus years ago that had contracts where the price was determined by Brix at harvest. But those contracts had a significant difference in philosophy from the current contracts. To the best of my recollection, that winemaker wanted Cabernet in the 23.5 to 24.0 Brix range. And there was a schedule right in the contract noting how much the grower would be “docked”, if the grapes were delivered outside of that range – Lower or HIGHER! And these were not buyer directed harvests. In other words, the buyer didn’t tell the grower when to pick, the grower decided when to pick (with minimal intervention by the winery). So as the grapes approached maturity, the grower was forced to continually test the grapes in the field in an attempt to hit that optimum target Brix range at harvest. Vineyard owners would often pressure their vineyard foreman or vineyard manager to deliver the grapes in the optimum range. Missing the target could have a significant impact on the profitability of the crop.

One other thing to consider is that the ripeness of the grapes varied from bunch to bunch and vine to vine more than today’s premium wine vineyards. Some winemakers feel the most important factor for quality grapes is a uniform crop. Today, most vineyards receive more time and attention than those of past years, at least in the premium wine category. There is much more emphasis on canopy management, sun exposure, water management and selective fruit thinning. Probably the biggest contribution to a uniform crop is the selective fruit thinning. Selective fruit thinning is when small bunches, and less-ripe bunches, and excessive numbers of bunches are cut off the vine to promote uniform ripening of the rest of the crop. This is not done without a bit of anguish. Imagine paying all year long for the best care of your vineyard, only to have to PAY MORE to have some of the fruit cut off and just fall to the ground.

So back then, making the decision to pick was a bit of a gamble. It was not uncommon for picking to be put on hold as the first load of grapes was delivered to the winery. After the Brix reading was taken, the grower would decide to continue picking, or send the crews home.

Field testing for Brix and Brix readings done at the winery will be the topic of another day.

So who was the winemaker that developed some of those early Brix related contracts?

That winemaker just happened to be related to the grower noted in the above email.

Care to venture a guess?