Deerslayer wants to move to Australia. I, of course, think this is ridiculous. I am sure there is a love story here somewhere. But, I am not feeling warm and fuzzy about it. I have tried to talk Deerslayer out of this. Deerslayer mostly sighs at me and shakes her head, much like I am sure she does with her father. She is young and smart and not afraid of the world. I go to war now wary. I rub my scars before each battle. I slowly put on my armor. I think about the battle to come. In the old days, I would just smell blood and charge the field.

Deerslayer and Australia reminds me of my first meeting with Julio Gallo. I was one of two students running the Fresno State Winery. The other student was my good friend Bob Fredson. Bob is from an old Dry Creek Sonoma family and one of the best winemakers and plant guys you will ever meet. Mr. Gallo flew in on his helicopter landing it in a vacant field near the school vineyard. I was in my second semester in school. I got the position as I have all positions in the wine business from the day I was seven: God opened the door and pushed me in. I had transferred from another school and had no new friends. I had nowhere to go after classes. I needed work. I went to the school winery everyday and knocked on the door, and every day three seniors who were in charge of the building told me there was no work and suggested I go away.
The supervising instructor was ill and was working part-time. The school was bringing in winemakers and managers from around the state to teach classes. But, the winery was somewhat forgotten. I had no where else to go. Everyday, I went to the winery and every day they told me no. Until the day they needed bodies to help with the bottling. The seniors let me in. I stayed with them for about four months. They tried to teach me everything they knew, and upon graduation they gave me the keys to the building and said, “Its all yours. Try not to screw up our wines.”

I had only two classes that summer. I wasn’t dating. Then, my old girlfriend who had left me for another guy changed her mind and decided to leave him and Berkeley for me and transfer to Fresno to get a nursing degree. Yes, Deerslayer, I was young once and had girlfriends. Or maybe I should say “they once had me.” We had a magical summer. I would check out a truck from the University. She and I would drive to the local packing houses in the cool mornings and I would select the fruit I wanted. She would help me load it, and, depending on the fruit, help me remove the seeds and crush it. I made fruit wines all summer, always looking forward to the day when I could crush my first grapes. Plus, I had a whole library of wines to taste and evaluate anytime I wanted. This was especially wonderful because I was only twenty years old. Life was great except that I wasn’t getting paid.

I was about three weeks into the summer period when one day the famous Fresno viticulture instructor walked into the building, looked around at everything and walked up to me.
“Are you the guy taking care of all these wines?” he asked
“Yes, sir,” I answered.
He looked me over and smiled. “Are you a student?”
“Yes sir,” I answered warily.
“Are you getting paid?” he asked.
“No sir”, I answered.
“You are now,” he said. “You now work for me. Go to the Dean's office and tell them I hired you and fill out whatever paperwork they need. Oh,” he added. “I hired one other boy. He will be starting next week.” That is how Bob and I became friends.

Bob showed up right on time. He came with a girlfriend, she was a journalism major who often wrote about us, a beat up bicycle with a sign on it that said “Muscatel Missle”, and one pair of clothes he wore all summer. I could always find Bob by looking for the bike. Bob grew up in a winery and a vineyard. He knew by the age of eight how to do everything I was being taught. Bob taught me to always appreciate Enology (winemaking) over viticulture (grape growing). The vit guys would be up by 6:00 a.m. and work all day in the 100 degree heat. Bob would be up too. Only we would be in the cool winery where Bob would be showing me how to run the winery concentrator to make syrup for our pancakes from some of the fresh juice I was crushing. These pancakes would get Bob in trouble a semester later when the newly hired Enology instructor from Germany came. But, that is another story. The vit guys would wave to us as they trudged back in the noon heat to eat lunch. We would toast them with glasses of chilled white Riesling, while we relaxed in the cool winery cellar on chairs and hammocks that Bob made from old abandoned barrel staves. I think of the Jesse Winchester song, Yankee Lady. “I was making love all night and playing guitar all day.” Well, we were making wine all day.

Mr. Gallo came at the end of that summer. It was a normal day with just Bob and me in the winery. One minute it was peaceful, suddenly every official who did something in the Ag department was crawling all over the place, administrators and staff that we had never seen before. Minutes later, in walked Mr. Gallo. He was a nice man. He appeared inquisitive, accessible and smart. He also seemed a little annoyed with the attention. He turned to the Dean of the department. “I would like to take you and Vince (the head of the viticulture department and my boss) and his assistant to lunch. Oh, and bring along those two.” He was pointing to Bob and me. The rest were left behind. This was to be the first of a few lunches I would have with this great man. The only other person to join us for lunch was his helicopter pilot. Most of the lunch discussion concerned viticulture and industry questions. Mr. Gallo did ask Bob and me a few questions. I asked him only one.

He was sitting next to me at the table. He was very relaxed. I asked, “If you were twenty years old and not from a wine family and you were just starting your career where would you go? What do you think about Australia?” Mr. Gallo almost came out of his seat. He turned to me and gave me a look similar I think to the one I gave Deerslayer when she announced her plans to me.
“What are you talking about?” he said. “Why would you go anywhere but here? The wine business in California is wide open.”

Bob smiled at me. The viticulture instructor looked fatherly at me. His assistant just shook his head at me. Mr. Gallo still looked puzzled. Lunch continued with a little more small talk and then at the end Mr. Gallo announced it was his birthday. We all sang him “Happy Birthday.”
I think about that day and especially his answer to me. How amazing that a man whose company controlled and dominated the wine industry so thoroughly and completely, considered at that time that the wine business so wide open.