Having just read about the passing of Robert Mondavi at the age of 94, I felt compelled to say a few words. It may be difficult for many casual wine drinkers to truly know Mondavi's impact on American winemaking and in fact on American culture. To many, the word "Mondavi" represents a brand with all carefully crafted connotations that a focus group could come up with. But he is a man. A lion, in fact who believed in the golden land of California and fought off whole legions of doubters to prove his belief. His fervor was an inspiration to winemakers in California and in fact, quite far abroad.

Ultimately, he was sabotaged by his own success, though this was not something he endured silently. In a way his life is a parable that is applicable to the whole endeavor of Californian winemaking, indeed to any area that strives to erect a towering honor in a place where only scrubland stands. His is a lesson against corporate leeches who wish to grab, with hostility if necessary, all the fruits of creativity and decades of risk and toil without themselves bearing the burden of any of that risk or weight of vision.

As with the betrayal of Julius Caesar, Mondavi's less violent demise marks the age of decadence in California. An age when multi-millionaires plant vineyards out of nothing and demand hundreds of dollars a bottle on their very first vintage. An age when bucketloads of money change hands over small pieces of paper that may be affixed to the stuff itself, but have little to do with the toil and talent necessary to put an honest product inside.

To the profiteers and egotists of Californian winemaking, may I gently remind you of the man that passed away today and how hard-earned all his glory was and in whose name you currently earn your ill-gotten gains.

I do not want to belittle Robert Mondavi's life by ending on a negative note. What he did and what he gained through decades of ceaseless toil taught the world, not just California, to sit up on its hind legs and take quality seriously. He epitomized pouring the depth of your character and your soul into your work. And there's no vessel better to receive it than your wine. Goodbye, Mr. Mondavi, I hope you find the hills of heaven to be as lush and shimmering with promise as you once did the verdant but neglected land of Napa.