In memory of Dick Erath.

The news of Dick Erath’s passing on March 29th is already fading into history. Many obituaries have been written and published. This post will not be another.

I have often said that one of the great things about the Oregon Wine Industry is that our legends still live among us. The pioneers of our Industry have been with us as our Industry has grown, matured, and aged. I consider myself fortunate to have known, learned from, and been inspired by them.

My first experience with Dick Erath was making dinner for him while I was a Sous Chef at Fuego Restaurant and Bar in Tuscon, Arizona, where Dick spent his winters. A bottle of 1994 Erath Leland Vineyard Pinot Noir that I found at a wine shop in Tucson was a critical experience that inspired my move to Oregon in 2000.

In May of 2001, I decided that cooking wouldn’t be my life’s work and set my sights on winemaking. So I called up all of my favorite Oregon winemakers and asked if they needed any harvest help. Nearly all those conversations went like this: “Yes, we do need help at harvest,” they would answer, “Do you have any experience ?” I would answer “no,” and they would all respond with “You should talk to Erath .” So I did.

My first day at Erath was one week after the 911 attacks. Though the winemaking was in the very able hands of Rob Stuart and Tyson Crowley, Dick was constantly darting in and out with grape samples and vineyard updates. Dick loved the Vineyard. He loved planting, farming, and walking them.

I saw in Dick, then in his late 60’s, a youthful restlessness. He was always thinking about another experiment or another project. In addition to his Oregon operation, he had planted a vineyard and built a small winery in Arizona.

My fondest memory of Dick was toward the end of the 2002 harvest. Every harvest has a day marking that the end draws near. It was a rather pleasant and sunny day in October. Most wines had been barreled down with just a few lots still fermenting. Michael Beckley, the winemaker, had given us a short to-do list and instructed us to “go home” when it was done. We were going to get to go home early.

I was checking lights had been turned off and doors shut when Dick appeared out of nowhere. He was holding a white five-gallon bucket with both hands like a giant cup. Wine stained the gray beard on his chin. He pushed the bucket towards me and told me to “taste this .”I drew the bucket to my lips and tasted it. I swished the wine and spat it into the drain. “What do you think,” he asked. “It tastes like we should probably press that tomorrow,” I replied. With a grin, Dick replied, “I’m thinking now.”

I saw the last guy sneaking out of the cellar, trying to avoid being pulled into another three hours of work. I motioned for him to leave.

Dick and I, together, dumped the tank into the press and stood there tasting the free run looking for the point to make the press cut. Once the press was done, Dick asked if it was ok if he left.

Over the next hour, as I cleaned up alone, my thoughts didn’t dwell on the half day that had turned long or that I was the only one that stuck around to do the press and clean up. Instead, I felt I had just had a “grandpa” moment with a living legend. Though I am grateful for all my time with Dick, I am particularly thankful for that day.

For Dick Erath, RIP just won’t do. But, I do not doubt that if there is a heaven, Dick Erath is there. His eyes fixed on some beautiful south-facing slope, pondering what grape should be planted on it.