Reflections on a Wine Career: The True Vintage

For those who don't know me, I've spent over 40 glorious years working in the wine industry, launching Okanagan wines across Canada and onto the world map. My journey began in 1981 when Anthony von Mandl hired me as a sales representative for Mark Anthony Wine Merchants, introducing me to the international fine wine trade. In those days, imported wines on a restaurant list meant Blue Nun, Valpolicella, and Mouton Cadet. I spent 20 years working with Anthony across two separate tours of duty—fantastic years that involved a lot of travel and gave me the chance to see some beautiful places. We were pioneers in many ways, putting Okanagan wines on the world map.

Along the way, I invested a great deal of energy, time, ideas, and heart into my profession. I thought I made a difference; in fact, I know I did at the time. People said, "You've changed this place for the better." "You've made a real impact." "We couldn't have done this without you." Those words felt real then. But now it's like I was never there.

I never envisioned a destiny of discreetly fading away into retirement, especially when I still have so much to contribute. Maybe I expected too much? Perhaps I thought my work would endure longer than it could. But it turns out that once you're gone, you're gone, quietly erased from institutional memory.

In the wine business, everything ultimately comes down to relationships built on three sacred pillars: trust, loyalty, and mutual respect.

I've witnessed careers soar when these principles were honoured, and crumble spectacularly when they were betrayed. The industry may seem vast, but it's surprisingly intimate. Your reputation follows you everywhere. The producers who shared their passion, the distributors who took a chance on unknown labels, and the restaurateurs who trusted my recommendations—these relationships were never just transactions. They were investments in something more profound, built on meaningful handshakes and promises kept, even when inconvenient.

This truth was reinforced by some of the most gracious wine personalities I've been privileged to know: Piero Antinori, Robert Mondavi, Christian Moueix, and Eduardo Chadwick. From them, I learned that passionate visionaries advance the evolution of wine, and pioneers craft wines that rank among the best in the world.

What has wine taught me about life? Relationships matter more than reputation. Genuine friendships forged over a glass of wine will endure long after commercial ties have been severed.

Now I understand that perhaps I was looking for my legacy in the wrong places. The organizational structures may have evolved beyond recognition, but the relationships I nurtured live on in ways both visible and invisible. They continue to uphold the way people conduct business with integrity, in the mentorship passed down to new generations, and in the standards of trust that have become the foundation for future partnerships. The young sales representative who learned that your word is your bond, the winery owner who discovered that loyalty flows both ways—they carry forward something more valuable than any strategic plan. They embody the values that truly change an industry. Without dwelling on past accomplishments, I care deeply about the wonderful people who have positively influenced my life, both professionally and personally.

Wine is a glorious, timeless, natural product that has eminently improved my life, just as it has for innumerable others that I know. In our house, simplicity and kindness are the fundamental values that bring us together around a table for any occasion, knowing that a good wine will keep our dear ones at the dinner table longer.

So while that roadside sign initially stirred feelings of impermanence, I now see it as a reminder that the best of who we were lives on in the character of those we influenced, in the principles we modelled, and in the trust we built one relationship at a time. The wine profession has brought me great pleasure and rewarded me with a fulfilling life. The older I get, the better I understand that this enduring foundation of human connection was the genuine vintage all along.