The Jericho family after dinner at Mum and Dad's: Andrew (left) and Kim, standing; Neil, Kaye, Steve and Sally, seated ... photos Philip White
Cool wines from a hot family:
how to start a new wine company
in a time of upheaval and chaos
by PHILIP WHITE
Reading it, and
remembering fondly my mentor David, who died in 1995, I can hear their
conversation as they discussed the nature of making money.
The
successful business operator "will arouse the admiration, and the envy, of a vast
army of men who have had similar aims," James wrote. Then he added a
critical non sequitur:
"Should
you set out not to make money but to make something really worthwhile in
itself, your success will with equal certainty be rewarded with the admiration,
and the goodwill, of men who really matter - men of category."
This came to
mind last week as I dined at home with the Jericho family.
In the two
years since they launched their new wine company, this family has proven that
in the chaos of an overcrowded wine world it is still possible to release a new
product which arouses envy, admiration and most importantly, goodwill amongst
many.
They have
done this with a suite of wines which are of outstanding quality, backed by a
good honest news story about hard work and co-operative skill.
The
packaging is fashionable but timeless; the prices beautifully modest.
I first
encountered Neil Jericho at Brown Brothers' Milawa winery in the mid-'eighties.
In those years there was a buzz about Browns. They were reputed to run the most
profitable cellar door in Australia, offering a vast array of experimental
wines of the sorts of varieties that are only now becoming commonplace.
Amongst
other winemaking roles, Neil was in charge of what was called the Kindergarten
Winery, which was a radical new installation where small batches of wine could
be given the most forensic attention.
He'd jumped
the fence from his previous role, making much more rustic types of wine at
Campbell's Rutherglen on the hotter river flats to the north.
The Jericho family swimming hole in the old gold pit at Eldorado, up in Milaway/Beechworth territory ... below is the old cork oak the kids played in
The first
Australian Jerichos arrived in Port Adelaide from Germany in 1854. Neil grew up
in the South Australian Riverland and went off to Roseworthy to study
winemaking. He was in the first class to undertake the new marketing course.
After Brown
Brothers he was chief winemaker at Taylors of Clare for 16 years.
He met his
wife Kaye at school in year 11. "Kaye's spent over thirty years being a
vintage widow; raising the three kids," he says. "And now here we
are, finally running a family business."
Family
business indeed.
"All our kids grew up working hard during their school and uni holidays,"
Neil said, "doing a lot of vineyard work: pruning, trellising and general
vineyard maintenance. They all know their vineyard management."
Daughter
Sally Pavic now does all the administration. She has marketing and accounting
degrees from the University South Australia and worked for a time on export
compliance at Wine Australia. With her husband Steve, a builder who races
motorcycles, she has three kids under six.
"Steve
is passionate about his work and sport," Neil says. "He doesn't have
a role in the wine business but loves his food and his wine. He's a good critic
of our wines."
As
is son Kim, who cooked us a brilliant dinner. He's worked vintages at Killikanoon
in Clare and Sumac Ridge in Canada but studied graphic design at UniSA and now runs
a successful design business. With the keen input of the rest he developed the distinctive Jericho logo and
branding.
While
it's easy to suggest references to, dare I suggest Penfolds and Coca Cola, that
happy Jericho brand is more a clever mixture of the euphoric fonts of the
federation era: think Bests Great Western, Wendouree and May Gibbs' Gumnut
Babies. With its enviable dash of humour and carefree confidence, it's the sort
of logo you can recognise on a table right across the other side of the street.
Through an ice bucket.
"Restaurateurs
seem to like having it on their tables," Kim said. "People like
looking at it. It's very easy to recognise. And as you say, it looks pretty
cool, but it's not modern enough to go out of date."
That
logo didn't come easily. It's certainly not another of those Mum and Dad get
the biro out for a bit of design on the kitchen table after dinner jobs. He
showed me page after page of trials, months of work showing gradual increments
of evolution as this Virgo-rich tribe offered their advice.
Similarly,
the entire family has input into the winemaking, which is otherwise the
territory of Neil and Andrew, who works full-time now as winemaker at Maxwell
Wines after years at Mollydooker and a vintage in China.
They
select distinguished parcels of fruit from vineyards they respect around
McLaren Vale and through the Adelaide Hills and make the wine at their
mate Goe de Fabio's beautifully-equipped
winery at McLaren Flat.
"We
have a great test for every wine we make," Neil says, laughing about being
a textbook Virgo, "with three very precise objectives.
"First,
our wines must show distinct varietal and fruit expression. Second, they must
be in balance: All the characters that make up the wine: fruit, oak, tannin (for red wine), acidity, extraction and
alcohol etc etc should all be in balance with not one ’spike’ sticking out.
"Third?
Drinkability. Get the first two right and you have drinkability: the
structure and the texture of the wine produces a lovely product that we
all like to drink."
Amen
to that. From their very first release these wines have immediately impressed
me with their honest vivacity and purity: not one has failed to earn a glowing
review on these pages.
We mulled over
the nature of family wine companies, how some disappear while others grow so
huge as to become almost meaningless.
Neil, after
all, has worked for three of them: all booming still. One doubts, however, that
any of those started out with the levels of vision, confidence, care, and keen respect
of the customer that these Jerichos show.
"There's
always the danger of not having a good succession plan," Neil said.
"Some
can't seem able to let other family members into the company - there's no consideration
of each member's level of skill. Then, sometimes there's simply not enough
industry knowledge. One day the family firm finds it did not have the skills to
run a successful business.
"And
then, of course, some become so very successful that they're offered a great
deal of money to sell out."
There's
no talk of either travesty at the Jericho table. Rather, a slightly feverish,
sightly tentative buzz of pride at their achievement and the potential of their
future.
Which
brings me back to David Wynn, and his conversation with that crusty old doyen,
Walter James.
Their
conclusion pretty well summarises far too many of the ill-conceived,
half-hearted brands that clutter today's shelves:
"In
some fields of productive endeavour, of course ... it is only a little sad that
so many men of ability as they reach for success and meet it are beguiled into
allowing the means to submerge the aim and in the end are content to do,
adequately enough, no more than a hundred others around them are doing equally
well. Their obituaries describe these people as successful businessmen and they
pass promptly into oblivion."
You won't see any of that
going down with this new Jericho family endeavour.
This lot is here to stay. They're
building something which is "really worthwhile in itself."
Drink up.
.
.
Another two great wine families here: David Wynn, left, with his brilliant sparkling winemakers Hurtle and his son Norm Walker. Norm's son, Nick carries the Walker family standard high at the formidable O'Leary Walker in Clare. Hurtle was trained by the French master, Edmund Mazure. Wynn's legendary Oven's Valley Burgundy came from Milawa territory ... everything goes round and round
No comments:
Post a Comment