January 2001
Turning Wine into Money, the American Way
by Jeremy Oliver

One of the joys of life as a wine writer is that you never know the trouble it's going to get you into. Last year over a tasting of Petaluma's red wines and rieslings at Bridgewater Mill, Brian Croser suggested to me that since he'd be going to Oregon and Washington State in October later in the year, that I should consider joining him for the experience. Half a second later a verbal arrangement had been reached. Then, a couple of months later I received a letter from an organization called PONCHO, which raises funds for the artistic community of Seattle, wondering if I might send them along a few copies of my book, since I had (apparently) agreed to play the role of Honorary Chairperson at their wine auction in October. Even Croser, rightly touted as one of the greatest communicators in Australian wine, has his weaknesses.

The dynamo himself—the hottest auctioneer in the US, David Reynolds

Since the previous incumbent of the position was none other than the motor racing legend turned wine identity Mario Andretti, you can surely understand why my stomach rather tightened at the thought, but there's no denying it sounded like fun. Books were dispatched, plus a photo and some biographical propaganda for the people at PONCHO to deal with. After ten rather blistering days in the west coast, I duly arrived in Seattle with dinner suit in hand, but little other idea of what lay in store other than that the entire auction was to have something of an Australian flavour.

Mere moments after checking in at the very splendid Four Seasons Olympic Hotel, my home for several days and the venue for the auction itself, I was due at a reception arranged, no doubt, so PONCHO's Board of Trustees and Officers, each resplendently titled the way Americans do as President, Vice President or Chairman of something or other, could cast eyes upon their new Honorary Chairman in time for some speedy damage control. The Wine Auction's Chairman, an urbane and quietly humorous former surgeon by the name of Mel Sturman, had arranged a small tasting of Australian red wines, firstly in case I was feeling homesick, secondly to give me something to talk about on the hoof in front of the gathering of thirty people or so. A charming and generous man is Mr Sturman, since the six wines in question comprised every Grange from 1990 to 1995. Naturally I decided to stick as close to this guy as possible over the next three days, and he never let me down. Mysterious glasses of this and that would turn up over dinners, usually a great old Bordeaux First Growth, or else a wine from somewhere or other that Robert Parker had given 100 points to. If there's a cellar I'd like to die in, it would be Mel's and Lord only knows how I will ever repay his generosity when he and his wife Leena make it back to Australia.

PONCHO's Downunder Auction was itself conducted in the grand ballroom of the Four Seasons, a classically maintained room of Victorian pomp and grandeur. It only seated 370 people, but I'm told that the auction was the hottest ticket in town that night–especially since Seattle's baseball team narrowly missed making the World Series–and that PONCHO could have sold many, many more. The evening began with four groups of silent bid sales, each with themes like 'Wines Ready to Enjoy', 'Wines for Your Cellar', 'Wines to Impress Your Friends! and 'Wines Not Available Anyplace Else', each group of which was fiercely contested with great excitement and energy, especially as the closing seconds for each wound down. Word has it that Microsoft has created 10,000 millionaires in Seattle, and I was beginning to see that it wasn't the place for the budget-conscious. Looking at the American dollars the lots were fetching, many of which were Australian, I decided that the safest place to be in was the PONCHO Board's private bar room, where the club lounges were comfortable and Mel Sturman's supply of Dom Perignon 1993 as endless as it was diverting.

The spine-tingling sounds of a lone didgeridoo player, whose instrument was picked out by a single sharp spotlight, greeted the guests as they filtered through into the darkness of the ballroom. Once the crowd was settled and the lights turned up, Mel Sturman briefly made a round of thanks and introduced me to say a few words, the briefing for which he had given me at one o'clock that very morning, on the way home from the excellent restaurant The Herb Farm, temporarily ensconced in Tom Hedges' winery outside Seattle.

The Four Seasons' Chef Gavin Stephenson had somehow prepared a dinner with a distinctively and not unambitiously Australian flavour, comprising lamb carpaccio with shaved sheep's cheese, white truffles and wild herbs; Australian lobster tail ravioli with tarragon pesto; Tasmanian alpine pepperberry crusted beef with roasted capsicum relish and red curry squash confit; warm crocodile tear drop goats cheese with truffle toast, and toffee pudding with chocolate accent and guava coulis. Anyone who thinks the Americans don't know enough about food should visit this hotel. All 370 of us were cooked to perfection.

Anyhow, having informed the audience that the menu served that evening was almost identical to that which every Australian schoolgirl is required to perfect by the age of thirteen, l suggested that it was only a matter of time before day to day Australian fare like the gourmet Yabbieburger, the Crocodile Croissant, the Goanna gujon, the Tiger Snake Tagliatelle and the Wichetygrub Taco would become to Americans what the Cheeseburger, Chico Roll and Big Mac today represent to Australians. They were polite enough to laugh.

All of this however was just a prelude to the main event of the auction itself, conducted by the irrepressible fund-raising force that is David Reynolds, a Brit who has made his home in San Francisco as the most sought after charity auctioneer in the US. He's a one-man orchestra of auctioneering, able to separate audiences from their currency with the subtlety of a Spanish galleon in full rig and the passion of Billy Graham in full flight. Mixing a bottomless shaft of British wit with ebullient and brash US-style and flair, he takes wine auctioning to a new level. The complete package, effective and entertaining, he makes any support act to his performance virtually superfluous.

Aided by the most spectacular list I have seen at virtually any auction, let alone a charity event, Reynolds broke records by raising $US 550,000. At one stage of the evening he had the audience at such fever pitch he only had to ask for substantial donations of money and up went dozens of paddles.

Some interesting and notable Australian lots attracted much attention, including Orlando's excellent Lawson's Shiraz 1991, Langmeil's The Freedom Shiraz, Highbank's stylish 1998 Coonawarra, Jim Irvine's Grand Merlot, Lindemans Steven Shiraz 1983, plus a swag from Charles Cimicky and Penfolds, including a vertical of Grange. Rosemount Estate provided for sale at $US 200 magnums of 1999 Diamond Shiraz which were sand carved and etched with the auction logo. The highest price for an Australian lot went for a case of Penfolds Grange 1995 ($US 3,500). Wow!

But try these for size: a set of Chateau MoutonRothschild including 1967, 1970, 1973, 1975, 1976, 1977, 1978, 1979 and 1980 ($US 3,800), an imperial of Chateau Lynch-Bages 1989 ($US 5,000), three bottles of 1986 and three halves of 1990 Chateau d'Yquem ($US 2,400), a bottle of Chateau Mouton-Rothschild 1947 ($US 3,400), a bottle of Domaine de la Romanee-Conti DRC 1966 ($US 2,200), plus other verticals of Chateau Leoville-Las Cases, Chateau Lynch-Bages, back vintages of Chateau Palmer, Chateau Pichon-Longueville Baron, a swag of other old DRCs and d'Yquems.

Interestingly, the collections of prestige American wines were even more hotly contested and these included a vertical of Heitz Martha's Vineyard Cabernet Sauvignon spanning 1966 to 1992 ($US 7,000), a vertical of Opus One from 1979 to 1996 ($US 5,500) and each vintage of Caymus Cabernet from 1983 to 1995 ($US 2,600) A highly imaginative series of events were assembled and bought, including an 'Exclusive Dinner' at the American Center for Wine, Food & Arts in the Napa Valley ($US 4,200), a private jet trip for four to the Napa Valley for a tasting and dinner at the Robert Mondavi Winery ($US 6,500) and an Australian wine tour for two arranged by Petaluma ($US 9,500).

By the time the auction finished nobody showed any signs of slowing down, so it was back to the Board's bar room to cool the heels with old cognacs, armagnacs and cigars. l expressed my relief at surviving the event intact by sampling a few too many, wondering as I did how we might be able replicate it back in Australia. It was a massive, five-star operation conducted with flair and precision, but late that night I managed to detect its only weakness.

None of the cigars were Cuban.