We make small amounts of premium wine, and our lives are dictated by the rhythm of nature and the demands of the living vines. The vines start sprouting tiny green tendrils in March and April, and the baby grapes begin to form in miniature, so perfect that they can be dipped in gold to form jewelry. The grapes swell and ripen in early fall, and when their sugar content is at the right level, they are harvested carefully by hand and crushed in small lots. The wine is fermented and tended until it is ready to be bottled. The vineyards shed their leaves, the vines are pruned and made ready for the dormant months-and the next vintage.
It sounds nice, doesn’t it? Living in the country, our days spent in the ancient routine of the vineyard, knowing that the course of our lives as vintners was choreographed long ago and that if we practiced diligently, our wine would be good and we’d be successful. From the start we knew there was a price for the privilege of becoming a wine-making family, connected to the land and the caprices of nature.
We work hard at something we love, we are slow to panic over the daily emergencies, we are nimble at solving problems as they arise. Some hazards to completing a successful vintage are expected: rain just before harvesting can cause mold; electricity unexpectedly interrupted during the cold fermentation of white wine can damage it; a delayed payment from a major client when the money is needed.
There are outside influences that disrupt production and take patience, good will and perseverance. The Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms regulates every facet of the wine business. A winery’s records are audited as often as two or three times a year and every label-newly written for each year’s vintage-must be approved. There can be a difference of opinion between the wine maker and the BATF about proper wording; our labels were once rejected because of the use of the word “aperitif " That meant the printer had to be notified, the labeling crew rescheduled and the shipping date delayed.
The greatest threat to the winery, and one that almost made us lose heart, came out of a lawyer’s imagination. Our little winery was served notice that we were named in a lawsuit accusing us of endangering the public health by using lead foils on our bottles (it was the only material used until recently) “without warning consumers of a possible risk.” There it was, our winery’s name listed with the industry’s giants, Mondavi and Gallo among them. The winery is so tiny, it must have taken some research just to find our label in the market. What kind of a lawsuit was this? The foil never touches the wine, and if you want to talk about lead dangers, how about the glasses the wine is served in? There was something here I didn’t understand.
The explanation came with a call from a law firm in San Francisco that was contacting the smaller wineries to offer group representation. Our winery had been named because we happened to be located in San Diego County and the San Diego lawyer who filed the suit wanted that venue for trial. Well, we wrote another check and joined fellow wineries in the defense. I must have asked a hundred times: “Who gets the money if the lawsuit is successful?” The answer was, and I never was able to assimilate it, the plaintiffs and their lawyers who filed the suit! Since the lawsuit was brought in behalf of consumers, it seemed to me that consumers must get something if it was proved that a lead foil was dangerous to them. We were told one of the two consumer claimants was an employee of the firm filing the suit!
We were kept informed of the, progress of the lawsuit, but it had little effect on our daily lives-just a vague worry about how much it would cost the winery if we lost. The grapes flourished, the harvest was good, the juice was fermenting nicely and we had enough money for bottles, corks and labels. We felt we were enormously blessed when the call came from our attorneys that we had won the lawsuit.
The problem came when the final bill for our defense arrived. Even though shared with many others it was a significant drain on the winery. A piece of needed equipment or a repair would be put off until another year. Still, it was wonderful to be able to concentrate on the important and pleasurable aspects of running our business. It was great to know that the worry of being sued was behind us.
Not for long. Our attorneys advised us that the law firm that lost the case was demanding the wineries pay them $456,000. In return, they would agree not to file an appeal. This threat to tie up our time and money for years didn’t come in a clever disguise; it was blackmail in its most basic form. I was outraged-how could anyone agree to this?
The wineries, having spent so much defending the bogus lawsuit, measured the cost of years of litigation on appeal and agreed. We’re writing a check again, but this time with bitterness and disillusionment. The sweet taste of victory, of knowing we were right and rejoicing that the courts recognized the lawsuit for what it was, lasted only a minute. We were defeated by an individual, misusing the system.
There are attorneys who focus their careers on lawsuits like this. It is an immense danger to the small businessman. Cash reserves can be used up in the blink of an eye when in the company of lawyers. As long as it’s possible for anyone to sue anybody for anything, we are all in danger. As long as the legal profession allows members to practice law dishonorably and lawyers are congratulated for winning big money in this way, we’ll all be plagued with a corruptible justice system.
It’s so sad; we won, didn’t we?
