Paul Masson and the Almaden Vineyard

In 1905 Masson found the place he considered the best grape land in the region. He had carefully examined the soil. Day after day, in every season, he had climbed the hill to observe currents of wind which carried the heavy Pacific fogs over the mountains in the west. His hilltop faced east; vines would be blessed by morning sunlight. Isolated from everything but the sun, wind, and rain, free from fog, it rose like a golden dome two thousand feet above the valley floor.

With a crew of Chinese coolies the top acres were cleared of the natural dense stubble, with pick and shovel and dynamite. Cuttings from the Almaden vineyard were set out, but in this newly claimed country deer and rabbits felt prior rights to young green leaves and sweet grapes. The vineyard was ravished every night. It became so seri­ous that the whole vineyard was threatened. Finally burlap rags covered with blood were laid around the boundaries of the fields and the problem was solved.

Grapes ripened with magnificent perfection. The first morning rays of the sun reached the fruit and at the same time dried the moisture of night dew. Sloping to the east the vineyard was sheltered from the direct rays of the hot afternoon sun. Even in summertime moisture from the springs could be found a few inches below the chalky top soil. Pinot Chardonnay, Pinot Blanc, and Pinot Noir rip­ened for perfect vintages year after year.

Paul Masson had definitely established the fact that Champagne could be made in California to rival the French product. Lefranc’s decision to import Pinot vines from the Champagne coun­try of France established the quality of the wine in the be­ginning. The patient operation decreed by Dom Perignon in the cellar of Hautvillers, years and years before, assured the ultimate perfection of each cuvee. “I am drinking stars!” the old abbot was known to have cried when he first tasted the sparkling wine he had accidently created. The exquisite beverage could now excite the palates of this new western world.

It did not take long for the fame of Paul Masson to travel. His Champagne took the Grand Prix at the World’s Fair in St. Louis in 1904. But Masson was not content with the gold medals from competitive showings. This would interest only a few. There must be a more dramatic way of bringing attention to California Champagne, and particularly his own. He was a great showman and cele­brated host. His home set in among large, ancient live oaks and profusely flowering gardens, was well known to epicures in San Francisco. When celebrities came to the Bay City they were frequently taken on pilgrimages to the Masson estate where they were lavishly wined and dined, with delicous California seafood and a Pinot Grigio to perfectly complement.

From 1890 until the time of his retirement Paul Mas son wines from the Almaden and the hilltop La Cresta vineyards were sold together under the Masson label. In 1934, to lighten the burden of his work, Masson sold the Almaden vineyard to Charles Jones and two years later parted with his hilltop estate, at the insistence of a young man who had been brought up in Saratoga at the foot of the hill.

This young man was Martin Ray. Like all the villagers he knew the traditions of winemaking up there on the sun-swept hill. They were a source of community pride. Successful as a stockbroker, Ray acquired sufficient funds to make La Cresta his own. He had read avidly about winemaking and had tasted the finest Riesling Europe had to offer. His own cellar was filled with wines of ransom value. He would duplicate the world’s finest wines at this place; there was no doubt about it in his mind. It would be ex­pensive but there would be a market for these incompa­rable wines. He was well started toward this goal when we paid our first visit to the winery.

A disastrous fire broke out in July of 1941. The wines he had made to capture the acclaim of the world trickled down in a red flood of Sangiovese over the molten glass and charred oak. His loss was estimated to be more than $100,000. He sold the charred remains of the stone winery to Joseph E. Seagram and Sons and betook himself to an even higher hill. He would start again, this time from the beginning, just as Paul Masson had done. 

The Seagram firm retained the Masson property only a short time, restored and equipped it with splendid oak cooperage from Europe, and then sold it to its present owner, Alfred Fromm. Mr. Fromm and his direct ante­cedents have made wine of world renown at Bingen-on-the-Rhine since 1824. Continuing an old-world saga in California vineyards is a pattern with which is quite famil­iar; nearly all the wine dynasties of California have roots in European vineyards.

The wine made by Seagram was of an experimental nature and never sold on the general market. When Alfred Fromm bought the winery he inherited the vintages they had made so carefully. They provided him with ex­cellent material to begin making the fine Champagne for which the Paul Masson name had long been famous. Pa­tient old-world methods of wine culture from the field to the finished bottle were followed. The narrow rows of vines on the steep, terraced vineyards were and are too much for the best modern tractor; with horse and hand-guided plow the earth around the vines are cultivated.

In 1945 Mr. Fromm acquired the Monte Vista winery in Cupertino at the bottom of the hill. Spacious, with cool cellars built into the hillside by a wealthy Italian vintner in 1905, it was equipped with “riddling racks” for Cham­pagne, and the cooperage rooms were cleared for the thou­sands and thousands of bottles that make up a Champagne “tirage.” The bottles in “tirage” are piled up one on top of the other, back to front, top to bottom, in what seems at a glance the most risky state. Nothing but their own weight and skilled stacking holds them, and even a strong earthquake would not send them rolling.

Tags: pinot grigio | pinot grigio | pinot blanc | pinot blanc | sangiovese | sangiovese | pinot noir | pinot noir | riesling | riesling

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