 |
|
 |
Cooper Vineyards
Dick Cooper, owner and grape grower
Our meeting with Dick Cooper was to be at his home, not his winery, which was just over the hill. The reason for this was that we asked Cooper to talk about his role as a grape grower, something he has done forever.
As we drove onto Cooper’s ranch and up the long driveway, one of his employees was building a very fancy mobile chicken coop on an old trailer. Cooper and his daughter Jeri greeted us as we got out of our car, and we motioned to the coop. “Ah, the old Chevy over there just wasn’t good enough,” Cooper laughed, pointing in the other direction to an old car surrounded with chicken wire. He figured he might as well put the chickens to work, so he was having a deluxe coop built, one he could pull into the fields with his tractor. You guessed it—the bottom of the coop was grated so the hens could “fertilize” the field. “I also want the workers in the fields to help themselves to fresh eggs,” he said. Those are some lucky chickens and field hands!
We headed inside his home for some coffee and great conversation. What Cooper shared with us about grape growing led to more questions on our part, so much so that we didn’t include the entire interview in the book due to space constraints! Dick Cooper is to grape growing what Fred Astaire is to dance; this man knows his away around a vineyard.
After our chat inside, Cooper and Jeri led us out into the vineyard. It was autumn, right after harvest, and the vineyard was turning brilliant shades of fall colors. Cooper showed us first-hand the science behind growing grapes, a science that is impossible to learn and encapsulate in an hour-long interview.
During our time with Cooper, one thing was plainly clear; this man would give his last nickel to you if you asked him. His reputation among his colleagues and customers is such that he is the “go-to guy” if you’re having a problem with your vineyard and need advice, and he asks for nothing in return. When two of his four adult daughters wanted to make a go of their own winery, Cooper agreed. But his heart still can be found in his vineyard, as it should be.
-------------------------------------------------------------
Have you always wanted to be a wine grape grower?
I always wanted to be a cowboy, but never made it. I was a cowboy singer. I went to work in a bar the day after I was 21 and played every Friday and Saturday night after that for 25 years, I guess. I bought groceries for my family, my kids with that. It was an important economic item.
Do you still sing?
Yes, at our Spaghetti Western, a benefit we had up here. My old band played. We were going to have 250 people but I think we had 500 and we raised $13,000.
So, you’ve gone from singing to grape growing to winemaking?
We’ve been growing grapes for long time. We were first known for our grapes, and now we’ve built a winery. We tried to do everything right. We started small and wanted to be market driven and we’ve gone from 1400 cases to 5000. We had to build another building because our little building on the hill just wasn’t big enough anymore.
When did you start growing grapes?
I started growing grapes in the early ‘80s. I badgered my father into planting five acres of Barbera. There was a big issue about what to plant. He’d been in the Zinfandel business because he leased my aunt Mary Davis’ ranch—which is now Deaver [Vineyards]—with my uncle Ken Deaver and they had a disaster with their Zinfandel crop. It was the end of World War II, which was a good thing, but the government quit buying grapes for medicinal alcohol, so their grapes went from selling for $125 per ton to being worth $25. There was only one winery to sell them to and if they had to haul them, they’d give you $20.
So your dad wasn’t supportive of you growing grapes?
My dad got burned. He was a walnut man, anyway. But I could see the grape thing was coming and I wanted to do it. When I first started growing grapes it was in ‘79, and I leased the ranch next door. They were in over their heads, and with the drought and all, the ranch just covered them up. They hadn’t suckered their vines because they thought the vines couldn’t support the grapes on top. The vines were all over the ground. So I leased it and in about five years, took the gross income from about $950 to $23,500. When Jenny the owner died, her heirs wanted to run the ranch, and by that time I’d learned what I wanted to learn. In the meantime I’d got my father going on grapes. He agreed to plant the first five acres.
How did you decide what to plant?
The story goes like this, and it’s a true story:
Darrell Corti (of Corti Brothers)
used to come to our house a lot (along with other prominent folks) for dinners. My dad asked Corti,
“What’s a good red wine grape to plant—and not Zinfandel?” And Corti
says, “Barbera.” My dad said, “Well, I’ve never heard of it. What’s that
again?” “Barbera,” he said again. My dad said to my mom, “Ruth, get a
pencil and paper.” Well, my mom wasn’t fast enough getting that pencil
and paper, so Corti opened up his wallet, pulled out a dollar bill, and
wrote “Barbera” on it and gave it to my dad. I’ve still got it, in my
cupboard, that dollar bill. So we planted Barbera.
Was growing Barbera as simple as the decision on what to grow?
Word was, my dad asked our neighbor, “How do you
grow Barbera?” He said, “Hank, I’ve got ten vines of it. You grow it
just like Zin.” So we thought we were going to grow this just like Zin.
By the time it got up to the bearing stage, I found out that, number
one, it’s really frost sensitive and I had some in a cold area. And it
grows. . .like a shock of hay; it doesn’t have any sense! I was talking
to another guy and he said, “If I had that, I think I’d put more spurs
on it.” BING! I’m not very smart myself, but if someone else mentions
something, it makes real sense, so I started doubling the number of
spurs. On a normal Zinfandel vine you have six spurs, 12 canes, 24
clusters. That gives you four tons per acre. We started upping the
number of spurs on the vines and sure enough, they just kind of calmed
down.
Cooper Winery tasting room.
Sounds like you were experimenting. Did you make mistakes?
Sure. Crown suckering was one. At the regime I mentioned, six canes, 12 buds (he hesitates, thinking). . .yeah, yeah, I can’t even keep it straight, but crown suckering is when you break off all the green suckers that come from someplace else and you go to that regime and you commit when you prune and you hold the vine to that. It’s like making a deal with God. You’re going to do the right thing for the crop. We started doing it with the Barbera, and I made all the mistakes in the world. Someone said, “Why don’t you go in and open those vines up?” So I went in and opened the vines up in the middle of summer. Well, the arm on Barbera must have 27,000 buds on the way out to the spur and the following year every one of them grew. Like holy smoke, I had a disaster there.
How did you deal with the problem?
We wanted crown suckering and it’s really expensive with Barbera. You may have a hundred suckers out at the end, but you only want to keep the buds from two. It’s all hand work and excruciatingly slow. You still have to go in and drop the second crop—this is where the Italians say you’re taking the green harvest—you drop the seconds off because they are going to be high in acid. Those seconds never get ripe. They might get the sugar, but they’ll be way high in acid.
Are there other problems you’ve experience, and resolved,
growing Barbera?
We grow Barbera on heads, with 16 spurs, not on wire. Barbera sunburns easily and can only take sun after veraison—when it’s started to ripen. The vines get a little stressed and will drop their basal leaves late in the summer, allowing in filtered sunlight all day long. This is where I believe we get our really good sun flavors we have in our Barbera.
Are other people growing Barbera this way?
The majority of the Barbera around here is on wire.
One kid put his on wire just because he could get cross-arms for free. I
said, “Don’t do it.”
What grape varieties are you growing here (now standing in the
vineyard)?
In this field now, we have Petite Sirah, Marsanne, Alicante, and Syrah.
Have you had problems with phylloxera? (Phylloxera is a common,
sap-sucking insect that feeds on roots, often resulting in secondary
infestations deadly to grape vines.)
All of our grapes are on resistant root. If they
weren’t we’d be replanting. All you have to do is drive around and see
all those milk cartons out in the fields and those guys are committed to
replanting. Phylloxera is just a death sentence. I had a friend who
planted a vineyard the same time I planted this one and I begged him,
“Please, if you don’t do anything else, go on resistant root.” Well,
another friend in the wine business gave him some bad advice based on
what he thought might happen, “Go ahead and plant, keep yourself
isolated and in 20 years we’ll have a cure for it,” he said. In 20 years
they did have a pretty good cure for it, but it killed the birds. They
took it off the market.
How many wineries do you supply?
About 11 or 12, maybe more.
How is it having your kids work with you?
It’s great. It’s the greatest thing in the world.
How many kids do you have?
Four daughters but only two work at the winery.
Any new plans for the winery?
Pay some of it off!
What do you see for the future of the area? Do you think it will
become another Napa?
No, I don’t think so. I think it will stay kind of small because the parcels are kind of small. My dad told me once, “This is marginal agricultural land. Grapes are the best thing you can grow up here.” Maybe I can’t see far enough ahead, but in Napa they get $3000 or $4000 for their grapes and I just don’t see that happening here.
A question we ask everyone, at the end of a hard day, you get
home. . . (I didn’t finish the question before he answered).
Beer! (laughs) No, I don’t, I don’t drink much beer. A Scott Harvey (Napa Valley winemaker) quote is, “Sometimes dinner is popcorn and Zinfandel.”